❛ You didn't believe me ❜

There was nothing more grueling than watching your best friends disappear right before your very eyes every night for a week. That's right, I've lived with Mr. Silas for an entire week, that's seven days. And not only did we reach a dead end in our search for Luca and Jax, but I had awoken every night from a recurring nightmare where I was forced to sit in the front seat as I watched my friends fade away into the blackness of the night as if they were a pile of dust just clumped on the ground.

It never got easier to see their faces, especially when they were screaming my name and for mercy before they were ripped from me and suddenly gone.

I didn't tell Mr. Silas about these dreams because he had already worked so hard to nurse me back to health and make sure I was physically okay. I didn't need him to worry about my mental health on top of the mess we found ourselves in.

I had woken earlier that morning with big eyes and a heavy chest before I finally came to the realization that as the only Lost Child left, I needed answers. And if I wasn't getting answers from Peter Parker who had called me insane and walked away from me days ago, then I needed to get the answers myself.

So, the one way to do that was find out what the public really believed about the Lost Children of Forefront. Mr. Silas told me they thought we were a myth, a legend. But I was there with nine other children when we stood in the street during the Battle of New York. There was absolutely no way that all ten of us used our powers and no one noticed. 

People are addicted to their cell phones, or so I had noticed, and with them being glued in their hands I was expecting a photo to be taken. Mr. Silas had a picture of us all in his living room, and if photographs existed then I don't understand why no one believes in us. There is proof.

And since this proof didn't seem to matter, I found myself entering the city library with a frown on my face. This was one very large building and I did not have a clue at where to start. 

There must have been hundreds of bookshelves which meant hundreds of thousands of books which meant millions of words. I was a wind bender, not a magician. There was not a single way that I could do this alone.

"Can I help you?" someone asked from behind me. Ah, yes, thank God! It was like someone had read my mind - or perhaps saw me in distress. 

I turned and noticed an older woman with purple pointed glasses and a very simple dress standing before me. She had a couple books in her hands and a small smile graced her lips as she searched my face for a response. "Are you having trouble understanding the Dewey Decimal System? It always gives teenagers a scare," she chuckled, placing her books on the circulation desk in the center of the vast room and walking behind the counter. I narrowed my eyebrows in confusion and tried to remember where I had ever heard those words, but I couldn't find an instance where I had.

So with a shake of my head that was a little too violent for my taste, I stepped up to the desk and placed my hands on it so my fingers bent at the edge. "Um, I'm not exactly sure," I replied hesitantly, my eyes wandering around the room to look at all the students and adults and small kids walking about to find what they wanted and or needed. "I'm looking for something about the Lost Children of Forefront," I finally told her, seeing a surprised look on her face. "Maybe a news report or something? Or a book! A book would be great," I said with a small smile.

The woman giggled at my enthusiasm, "You must be a Lost Child then," she said with a grin, only I could not tell she was teasing. My eyes widened and my words caught in my throat and suddenly I forgot how to speak. "What?" I squeaked out, my voice being ten times higher it's normal pitch.

She waved her hand in a dismissing manner, "Oh, doll, I'm only kidding. Everyone knows they're a myth," she said added. With her response, I didn't know if I should be relieved or frustrated with her answer. We weren't a myth, yet I couldn't tell her that. Mr. Tony Stark and Mr. Silas both made it very clear to me that no one could know that the Lost Children are real. Well, except for Peter Parker but that was a bust.

The woman raised her hand and pointed to a small aisle off to the corner where I noticed no one even looked. "That aisle over there contains all our knowledge on the Battle of New York. There's new reports and articles, but not many books. Especially on the Lost Children," she pointed out clearly. "Is this a school project?"

I was too caught up in looking at the aisle that I hardly heard her question, so when I whipped back around, there was a blank expression on my face. "What?" I asked, trying to process her words before I finally understood on my own. "Oh, yeah. School project," I lied with a small laugh leaving my lips so she would believe me. 

I was nearly moving my feet to where she pointed before I found myself looking back at her, "Do you -- " I began, my words stuttering because I didn't quite know what I was going to say. "Do you think they're a myth? The Lost Children ... what do you think?"

She sighed and looked down at her fingers which had now started to rapidly tap against the book beneath her hand. "I don't really know, dear," she said softly before glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "The entire Battle was quite a surreal event, what with these superheroes coming in. And I thought I saw someone appear before me and then disappear, but then there was a gust of wind and I realized I must have been dreaming," she explained.

I froze. Gust of wind, disappearing and reappearing? That was me. I was this surreal thing the woman experienced yet she didn't even believe it. "But if they are real, then I can't begin to imagine what happened to them. How they got their powers ... who they are - or were. What happened to them after that made them just vanish ..." she trailed off, staring at the desk. "I don't know, honey. But I hope your school project is worth the mystery," she smiled before patting my hand once and collecting her book in her arms.

The woman was gone before I could ask another question and reluctantly I began moving toward the aisle she directed me to.

She was right, there was not many books or even articles on the Battle of New York, and there was an even smaller selection of Lost Children information. I sighed as I crouched down, my eyes skimming over the newspapers on the bottom shelf. I saw one with the date after the Battle and I snatched it up, my eyes latching onto the title: Lost Children or Government Scare?

I wandered to a private table in the corner near the windows and dropped my bag onto the floor before sliding into the chair. The front page of the newspaper hosted the exact picture that was on Mr. Silas's wall.

There was an ear-piercing long beep screeching in my ear and I scrunched my face together and looked down. Luca's hand tightened around mine and he smiled wearily at me before his head snapped up at the sound of a large crash. We knew this was it, this was our one chance to prove ourselves and try and stay away from Rehabilitation.

And as if we all were thinking the same thing, our heads lifted and we stared ahead at the broken gravel before us. The Chitauri were winning, and the others that we had seen running around to help were off in the other side of the falling city. 

"Are we out of league here?" Little Tony spoke, his ten-year old voice quivering at the sight of everything before us. "Do we have a choice?" Buddy Bloom squeaked, her hand gripping Marcus's so tight that it turned purple from loss of circulation.

A tear slipped down my cheek and I stifled a fearful sob, "Guys, I-I'm scared," I told my friends. Luca turned to face me and took in my wide eyes, but he only smiled softly at me and tried to be strong. "It's going to be okay," he assured me, then turning to face everyone. "We are going to be okay. We'll get out of this together, or we won't get out of this at all. God will keep us safe," he told everyone, giving us a little pep talk before we were met with a portion of the Chitauri army to fend off.

"He's right. We can do this," Jax agreed, him and Luca being the strongest of the ten of us as they were the ones to keep us in control. "Then let's hurry up, I really have to pee," Marcus whined, squeezing his legs together. Kathryn elbowed him in the stomach and that was the last joke we would have for a while.

I took a large gasp of air as the memory faded away into the back of my mind. Suddenly, a large sound erupted from behind me and I whipped around as fast as I could in fear or perhaps shock - I wasn't sure which - and noticed a very nervous Peter Parker grabbing a stool with a wince on his face after it fell.

I slowly stood to my feet, my hands gripping the table as if my life depended on it. Peter's eyes met mine and I couldn't tell if he was either apologetic or worrisome, but I went with the lather. He knew I was a Lost Child and that I had powers, so I assumed he was nervous about being around me. "Sorry, uh ... sorry," he stuttered. "I didn't mean to do that, that was an accident," he continued to ramble.

"What are you doing here? You didn't believe me," I asked, a little anger etching at the bottom of my voice because of his refusal to help and the fact that he called me mentally unstable. Peter shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, something Luca used to do a lot. "It was kind of odd to have some girl claim to be a Lost Child of Forefront. I mean, everyone knows they're a myth."

I shook my head and swiped the newspaper off the table, then reaching out my arm so Peter would take it," Not me. I don't think it's a myth." Peter hesitantly took the paper from my hands and I pointed to the girl on the far right side of the picture, "This is me."

Peter raised an eyebrow and slowly lifted his head so his eyes could meet mine, "What did you say your name was?"

I looked around me before folding the paper and sliding it into my back pocket. I had broken into someone's house, me stealing a newspaper from the library would not amount to all I had done. "Aniya."

Peter smiled at me and nudged his head toward the entrance of the library, Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"